Bad Kids
by Helena Lockett
Summary: We're a group of young boys who break the rules, we didn't expect to be respected. Really the only society who accepts us is ourselves. The Bad Kids. AU Glee, bad boy. Glee characters and OCs, too! Rated M for language and probably later chapters. Enjoy!
1. I Suppose An Introduction Would Help

**A/N: Hey everyone! Oh look, it's a new story! I got my inspirations for this off This Boy's Life and The Outsiders, both fantastic books and movies! I recommend them!**** So anyway, this story's a little bit different! A few of Glee characters are all different and bad boy****, and some others are stuck-up and posh and all that! Also, there's some OCs! I really hope you enjoy, and reviews are much appreciated! :)**

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><p>"I wish you'd stop using that black crap on your nails, short stuff."<p>

"It's called nail polish. And don't call me short stuff."

Hey, my name's Blaine. Blaine Anderson. I'm seventeen years old and I live in Ohio. I guess what I should tell you next is that I'm part of a group that are known around town as the Bad Kids. We wear leather, we smoke and drink and other things. We do what people would consider bad stuff. People look down on us. We don't got a good reputation. Thing is, we couldn't give two shits.

That loudmouth talking about the "black crap on my nails" is my older brother, Luke. He's part of the Bad Kids, too. He's pretty over-protective of me, even though we've got our Momma. He's tough, Luke is. He's a lot tougher than me. We're close. I care about him a lot.

"You're five-eight, B. You're short," Luke said with a shrug. I just rolled my eyes.

"We got work tonight?" I asked him.

"Yep. Topper's picking us up. Pretty soon, actually."

Topper was another one of our friends, another one of the Bad Kids. He was nicknamed Topper because when he fucks chicks (and sometimes dudes) he's always on top. Topper's a big flirty sort of guy. Dude humps anything that moves. He's great for a night out, sure, but I'm seriously starting to think he's a nympho.

"How soon's 'pretty soon'?" I asked as I examined my painted nails.

Luke lit a cigarette and took a long drag before answering, "Roughly ten minutes, I'd say."

"Shit, Luke, why didn't you tell me? I gotta make myself presentable."

I quickly left my seat at the kitchen table and headed for my room.

"Make yourself presentable? Like a lady," Luke scoffed.

"Shut your trap," I sighed and left the room.

I looked at myself in the mirror. I did it quite a lot, actually. A lot more than the other guys. They constantly teased me about it, too. How I looked in the mirror "like a lady" and I wore eyeliner "like a lady" and I painted my nails "like a lady" and I dyed my hair sometimes "like a lady". I wish they'd realise how image-conscious they were, though. They were always looking at their hair in the mirror, fixing themselves up. So sue me for being a little more glamorous. It pissed me off at first, but now I'm sort of used to the jeers. We all get jeered for our different things, really. I guess it's part of who we are or some shit. I lit a cigarette. Work in five minutes. Topper would be here any second.

Me and a few of the guys work at a bar just a few miles away. It's called 'The Dusty Bottle'. I honestly don't know how we ended up working there. It's pretty fucking classy if you ask me. All the high-class douchebags go there and sip their Shirley Temples and Appletinis and talk about some famous person's crotch they grabbed or something of the sort. They're not afraid to take the piss out of us right in front of our faces. They think we can't do nothin'. Can't beat the shit out of them like I've wanted to so many times. But I can't. Most of the high-class people are ladies, and Luke says I can't hurt ladies.

Still doesn't mean I don't want to.

I heard a car pull up outside our house, a non-stop car horn and loud music. That was Topper.

"Hey, B! Topper's here!" I heard Luke yell from the kitchen.

"I know, I know, I'm ready!" I yelled back, grabbing a few things and leaving my room.

I slammed the front door behind me and ran to Topper's car, opening the back seat and hopping in.

"Hey, short stuff! You look hot," Topper greeted, which wasn't an unusual greeting for him.

"Not too bad lookin' yourself," I replied with a smirk, and he ran a hand through his dark blond hair.

"I try, I try," he grinned, hitting the brakes and jumping the car into action.

"You lookin' forward to work?" Luke asked Topper, taking a drag of his cigarette.

Topper shrugged, "What I always say, if I-"

"'If I score, I'm happy'," Luke quoted with a laugh, and Topper and I laughed, too.

I would get through the night. Work wasn't too bad.

* * *

><p>"You guys finally showed up. The place is fuckin' packed,"<p>

That was Bandit. Bandit was another Bad Kid. He didn't work at the bar with us because he was only fifteen, but he hung around there a lot with us. He got the nickname Bandit because he likes to snatch things, like food or money, from me or the other guys without us noticing. He's a sneaky dick, but I love him. Me and Bandit are really close.

"You're complainin' when you don't even gotta work," Topper replied with a cheeky grin.

"Since when did you get so fuckin' smart-ass, Topper?" Bandit said, but there was laughter in his voice.

Topper playfully punched Bandit's arm, and Bandit smiled, "Oh, B!" I snapped to attention, "I meant to tell you. Kurtsie Fox is here again tonight. He's just finishing up."

"What, seriously?" I felt my eyes widen, I was so excited, "Darn, I should've arrived earlier,"

"I don't get why you like him so much, short stuff," Luke commented, "he's just another gay boy who's dick you wanna suck, right?"

"He's different, Luke," I sighed, "how many times do I have to tell you?"

"Oh, so many of your so-called boyfriends have been "different". Marcus was different, Jordy was different, Cliff and Kyle and Kevin were different. I'm fuckin' sick of the word at this point."

"I mean it this time. He's different."

Luke just rolled his eyes, "Whatever."

This Kurtsie Fox we were talking about was the bar singer. His real name's Kurt, but Kurtsie Fox was his stage name. And man, do I have the hots for Kurtsie Fox. He ticked every box for me. There was something about him. He wasn't afraid to express himself - he wore all these glitzy, razzle dazzle outfits, he said what he wanted, he did what he wanted. His voice was amazing, I'd never heard anything like it before. He was a real performer, he knew how to entertain. Kurtsie Fox was different, like I said. All them other boys Luke was rambling on about, they didn't mean a thing compared to Kurtsie Fox. They were all just a quick fuck and a five-minute relationship. I felt like I could have a real relationship with Kurtsie. A proper, boyfriend-and-boyfriend way he makes me feel, man. I can't describe it.

But there was a problem. Kurtsie was high-class. He hung around with all those douchebags who made fun of me. They all gave him shit for even talking to me, which I could tell he wanted to. I could tell he wanted to communicate with me and all his "friends" were like these big, strong chains holding him back. Maybe Kurtsie wanted me, too. But I would never know.

Because Kurtsie was perfect, and I was so fucked-up. They wouldn't let him touch me.

"Blaine! Hey, Blaine, are you okay?"

I came back to the real world, and there he was, clicking his fingers, trying to get my attention.

"Blaine? Hello?" Kurtsie laughed a little, "Unbelievable."

"Woah, sorry," I finally spoke up, "my thoughts were taking me away, I guess."

"Never thought I'd hear you say that. I wanted to ask for a drink before you started dreaming."

"Heh, sorry," I began to walk to the bar, "What will it be?"

"Sex on the Beach. I'm feeling adventurous," Kurtsie replied.

"Well, I'd love to, but there's no beach nearby," I cooed, and Kurtsie laughed.

"You're pretty flirty tonight, aren't you, B?" he said, and he reached up and took a lock of my hair in his fingers, "I like your hair tonight. The red streaks look good."

I smiled, "Why thank you. I like your everything tonight. I do every night."

Kurtsie smirked, "What brought out the playboy in you tonight?"

"_Kurt!_"

I looked behind Kurtsie and just about saw his midget friend, Rachel Berry. Rachel didn't like me very much at all. Kurtsie was really the only one who did. Well, I hoped he did.

"Hey, Rachel-"

"Were you talking to that scumbag? He would probably give you an STD by just looking at you."

"If that were the case, you would have one right now," I retorted, handing Kurstie his drink, "Pity you already have one from your boyfriend."

Rachel glared at me, she looked like she was ready to slap me. "You'd like to think that, wouldn't you?" she spat, "that Finn's dirty like the rest of you, just so you can feel a little more normal? Think again."

She grabbed Kurtsie's wrist and started dragging him through the bar, and Kurtsie didn't have time to protest.

They were gone. He was gone.

"Maybe if you watched your mouth more often, they wouldn't hate you so much,"

I turned around to see another one of my friends, another Bad Kid, "Shut your trap, Slick," I said bitterly.

Slick worked at the bar, too. The thing that was different about Duke was that he wanted to be sitting at the high-class table. He wanted to discuss how many credit cards he went through while he sipped his seven-billion dollar Cosmopolitan. He wanted to openly talk shit about someone at the next table. He wanted to be a high-class kid.

"You know they hate all of us, right? Doesn't matter how nasty you are," I added, taking a beer from the bar's fridge, cracking it open and taking a sip.

"I know they do. But you could change. We all could."

"Dammit, Slick, don't you realise you're the only one who wants to be one of them?"

"I don't want to be _one of them_, I want to be _respected by them_! Treated as equal! Hell, you know I wouldn't say nothin' to hurt you guys, _you know I wouldn't_, B! I just want to have a little more money, dress in nicer clothes-"

"You already dress nicer than us. Already think you're better than us, don't you?"

"_Of course I don't_, B, you're crazy! I wouldn't hang with you guys if I didn't like it! What's wrong with wanting something different, huh? What's wrong with not wanting to be stuck with everyone looking down on you and insulting you for the rest of your life?"

I felt bad when Slick said that. He must get really hurt, feel really trapped. One thing me and Slick had in common was that we both expressed our emotions more than the other guys. We both dreamed of our future. Who was I to tell him he couldn't have his?

I walked over to him and wrapped him in a hug, "M'sorry," I mumbled.

"That's okay, B. It's no big deal, anyway," Slick shrugged, letting go of me after a moment.

"You come talk to me about your dreams whenever you want, okay? I'll listen," I said with a wink.

"The only way you two could get any gayer was if his cock was up your butt, Slick," Topper laughed, "back to work, c'mon."

* * *

><p>Work ended a few hours later and Topper dropped Luke and I back home. We got in pretty late, half one in the morning, but we always did.<p>

Luke unlocked the front door and we walked quietly into the kitchen, only to find our Momma at the table, smoking.

All I need to tell you about my Momma is that I love her. I love her with all my heart.

Her face lit up when she saw the two of us, "Baby Blaine, Lukie! I haven't seen you all day, boys!" she chirped, grabbing both of our faces and planting kisses on our cheeks.

Luke and I both wiped our cheeks of red lipstick on instinct, smiling.

"Hey, Momma," Luke greeted with a smirk, folding his arms.

I practically knocked my Momma over with a hug, I always did. I took her cigarette from her mouth, took a drag and gave it back to her with a cheeky smile.

"Oh, behave yourself, Blaine!" Momma joked, wagging a finger at me.

"Well, we gotta head to bed now, right Blaine?" Luke gave me a nod, "we've got to be up early, visit Ash in the hospital."

"Oh, I forgot poor Ash is in the hospital! Send him all my best wishes tomorrow, okay?" Momma told us.

Ash is another Bad Kid. He's an asshole. We all get into trouble, but he gets into way too much trouble. Ash hs been in prison, he steals, he gets high and drunk, he nearly killed a guy one time. A theory that Luke and I have is that Ash has some terrible, scarring past. That he coops up all his feelings at lets them out by starting fights and getting drunk and shit like that. You've heard those kind of stories before, right? But, if Ash didn't get himself together soon enough, he was probably going to kill himself with all the damage he's done to himself. And that's scary. But we're all friends, and we gotta stand by each other, so Luke and I were going to see him in hospital tomorrow morning. He got real drunk and he got in a car crash two days ago. We really weren't surprised at this point, which sounds bad, but we still worried. We couldn't help it. All the gang were gonna be there to see him. All the Bad Kids.

"Sure thing, Momma! G'night, I love you," I said happily, kissing her cheek.

"Night, Momma," Luke gave her a wave and we both headed upstairs to our rooms, bidding each other good night.

* * *

><p>And as I lay in bed that night, a lot of thoughts went through my head. I thought about Ash and Slick. I thought about Kurtsie, but I do that every night. Though I didn't jerk off this time. I thought about... life, I guess. Get ready for some "inspirational" type shit. I thought about what I was going to do with my life. Darn you, Slick, for getting me thinkin'. What if I was stuck in this town my whole life? What if I never got to go out in the world and achieve all my ambitions? I wonder if I'll just be a dreamer forever. If my dreams will ever come true. I have a lot of dreams, y'know. I always wanted to be a singer. I have a guitar and I've penned a few tunes. I don't know if they're any good or nothin', but I figure it's worth a try. I want to sing with Kurtsie. That's another dream. I want to <em>be <em>with Kurtsie, as impossible as that sounds. I would try and make it happen. Who knows how it could turn out? Even though no-one wants it but me. And maybe Kurtsie. I'll say it again, who knows?

I don't even know what I'm thinking anymore. I never used to think this much. Maybe it's because I'm growing up and it's time to give a fuck.

Just know that I have a mind. That I'm not all cigarettes, beer, and leather. That I'm not all hair dye, eyeliner and nail polish.

I have dreams.

And that night, I decided, my dreams were going to come true.


	2. Oh man, That Kurtsie Fox

**A/N: Hey guys, so here's chapter two! I'm still a little rusty with this story, I hope you enjoy nonetheless! Oh, also there's a scene in this that doesn't involve Blaine, so it just switches to third-person. Just in case you're ****confused! And, if you wouldn't mind, your opinion on something else? I already have a Tumblr, but I was wondering if I should make one for just my stories mainly? Feedback is much appreciated, as is feedback on the chapter! Enjoy! :)**

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><p>"Jesus, Ash. You look like shit."<p>

Luke and I had just arrived at the hospital. All the other Bad Kids were there, so we were the last to arrive. Ash looked wrecked. He looked like shit, like my brother said.

"Oh, Luke," Ash said in a mockingly sweet tone, "you were always one with the compliments."

Luke grinned, "You're lucky to be alive, 'yknow," giving his friend a clap on the shoulder when he reached the hospital bed.

"Hey, B," Ash smiled at me, and I smiled back.

"Hey," I gave him a little wave, "you gotta stop gettin' into trouble like this, Ash. You could end up dead."

Ash rolled his eyes, "First Fitch, now you?"

"See, Ash, I'm not the only one who worries! If you weren't such an asshole I wouldn't have to, you wouldn't have to suffer all my whinin'!" Fitch protested from the chair close to Ash's bed.

Fitch was Ash's best friend. Another Bad Kid, as you would've guessed. Fitch is sweet. He acts sweeter than a lot of us. He cares about everyone, and he isn't afraid to show it like the rest of us. I'm real fond of Fitch. Everyone is.

"Don't worry your head, Fitch. He's alive, ain't he?" Topper ruffled Fitch's hair, Fitch responding with a tiny "leave my hair, Topper!"

"When're you allowed out?" Bandit asked.

"A week to two weeks," Fitch answered before Ash could, and we all laughed a little.

"We're gonna miss you at the bar," Puck told Ash, and Ash smirked, flattered.

Oh, I should tell you about Puck. Puck's another Bad Kid. He's got a funny mohawk. Puck's real nice too, but sort of in a different way than Fitch. He's got the hots for Quinn Fabray, but she's a classy lady. She hangs around with Kurtsie Fox and Rachel Berry and people like that. She wouldn't date Puck. But he never stops trying, and I admire him for that.

"Oh, you won't miss me that much. All I do is smoke and drink and bum around the place," Ash replied.

"Heh. Like we do any different," Bandit laughed.

"We'll miss you bein' there, Ash. 'Course we will," Topper added, "especially Fitch."

"Shut your trap, Topper!" Fitch fumed, "I'll be just fine!"

"You'll be "just fine" when you're jerkin' off to a picture of him in your wallet," I teased, and Fitch shot me a glare.

"Stop it, B!" he whined, "I don't have a picture of you in my wallet, Ash, and I certainly don't jerk off to it!" he responded to Ash's curious look, and Ash snickered.

"Sure you don't," he said sarcastically, and we held in our laughter.

"Y'all are bullies, y'know that? Bullies!" Fitch snapped, crossing his arms in a huff. Fitch was always over-dramatic and flustered. It was adorable.

"Aw, we're not, Fitch. You're takin' this too serious," Slick re-assured him with a amused smirk.

"We joke, Fitch. You know we do. Take that silly pout off your face," Luke told him with a smile.

We had to do this a lot. Snap Fitch out of his hissy fits.

Fitch had a little blush on his cheeks, but he got rid of that silly pout, "Now, y'all were really just joking, right?"

"Of course," Puck said, "Fitch, dude, the only one who jerks off to photos is B."

"Really, Puck? Really? We're just passin' along the hate?" I sighed, but I was smirking.

"Don't think we haven't found that photo of Kurtsie Fox you have?" Slick said, and I felt heat rising to my face.

"Unless that substance was, um, I don't know, shampoo or somethin'," Bandit chuckled.

"You guys suck. You guys fucking suck," I said with my voice raised, laughing afterwards.

I buried my head in my hands, and all the guys laughed around me.

They were such fucking jerks, but I loved them.

* * *

><p>We had work at the bar that night, and we had just arrived, me an' Luke.<p>

"Anderson,"

That was Sebastian. Sebastian Smythe. He was a high-class guy, but he liked to hang with us Bad Kids. He was real tight with Topper, I'm pretty sure they were fuck buddies too.

The high-class kids still hung out with him, but they weren't as close and friendly with him. Because he liked being with us, of course.

"your little boyfriend's on tonight," he added with a cheeky grin.

Literally _everyone _knew about my crush on Kurtsie, by the way. Even fucking_ Kurtsie _knew.

"_Your_ boyfriend should be here any minute. He picked me up in his car," I smirked.

"Sebastian!"

Speak of the devil, there was Topper. He ran upto Sebastian and nearly knocked him over with a strong hug, and Sebastian gladly hugged back.

"Hey, I haven't seen you in days!" Topper said excitedly, and Sebastian laughed into his shoulder.

"Cheeky fucker over there said you were my boyfriend," Sebastian pointed to me after he ended his _very _long hug with Topper.

Topper laughed a little, "Now, come on, B. Everyone knows,"

"We don't do relationships," they said in unison, then broke into uproarious laughter. Oh, sure, saying your cute little catchphrase in unison wasn't gay at all. Puttin' your hand around Topper's waist ain't gay at all, Bas. And that arm around Sebastian's neck, Topper. Oh no, that's totally hetero. I just rolled my eyes and got to the bar, started serving people.

"B! Hey," Fitch was at the bar, sipping a rum and coke, "Kurtsie Fox is performing tonight."

"I know. Bas told me," I replied, cleaning some beer glasses.

"You'll never guess who's here tonight." Bandit suddenly appeared at the other side of the bar.

"Kurtsie? Yeah, I know."

"Hey, B?" Puck called as he passed by, "I just ran into -"

"Kurtsie Fox. He's performing tonight, yeah."

I was practically waiting for someone else to tell me about Kurtsie Fox. Not only did everyone know about my crush, they constantly persecuted me about it.

"Hey, B?"

"Yeah, Kurtsie's here tonight, I know."

"Well, actually... Kurtsie's sittin' right behind you, Mr. Broody."

I spun around and was met by the face of Kurtsie Fox, - oh god, that face - smirking and giving me a wave.

"Hey Kurtsie," I babbled, almost tripping over my words.

"Hey, B. I just need some water before I perform. I know I should have some but-"

"Nah, it's fine," I cut in, running to the bar sink and getting him some water.

I handed him the glass and he took it, and grabbed my hand with his free hand.

"What're you doing?" I asked, my expression confused.

"You can come see my show," Kurtsie laughed a little as he said this, "take a break off work."

"Kurtsie, I just got here,"

"You're a Bad Kid. Don't you break the rules?" he looked back at me with a wink and a smirk.

Fuck.

I returned the smirk and nodded, "I suppose you're right."

"Good! Now," he dragged me through the crowds around the stage, and placed me in a chair very close to the stage, "you get front row seats. Enjoy the Kurtsie show! I'll be out in, like, five."

He ran backstage, and I just sat, waiting. Kurtsie wanted me to watch him perform. He plonked me down in the front row. Maybe he was more interested in me than I thought he was.

"You! Why are you here?"

As I thought, Rachel Berry stood behind me. I could practically feel her glaring me down.

I turned around and smirked, "Hello, darlin'-"

"_Answer my question!_"

I looked behind her to see all her high-class skanks were with her - Santana Lopez, Sugar Motta, Quinn Fabray. And then there were the guys - Jesse St. James and Finn Hudson. They not only hated the Bad Kids, but they also hated _each other. _You should see their bickers, it's fuckin' hilarious.

"Kurtsie invited me," I shrugged, and all four girls rolled their eyes, or sighed, or made disgusted noises, or some shit. And almost at the same time, too.

"Why would Kurtsie invite _you_?" Santana spat, like I was the fuckin' Anti-Christ or somethin'.

"I dunno. He told me to wait here until he came on stage," I informed them, and I had to bite back my laughter at their behavior. The instantaneous appalled reactions if I said as much as a word. I bet I could cough or somethin' and they'd let out a big, dramatic sigh. Priceless.

"He's always been a little more... adventurous than us," Finn pointed out.

"He talks to those assholes at the bar, and he chats quite a lot with this one," Jesse added. "This one" was me, I assumed.

"He's just going to get himself into trouble, I don't see why he talks to them," Quinn muttered.

"But, look at me," I gave her a sickly sweet expression, "I'm sweet as pie, honey."

She just gave me a glare and looked away.

I heard Sugar about to pipe up, but she was interrupted by music.

A spotlight appeared, and there was Kurtsie, playing the opening notes to his first song.

He played a little longer and then accompanied the piano with vocals.

His voice was so perfect.

_Come and open up your folding chair next to me,  
>My feet are buried in the sand and there's a breeze,<br>There's a shadow, you can't see my eyes,  
>And the sea is just a wetter version of the skies.<em>

At this point, Kurtsie leapt up from the piano chair. Another guy ran from backstage and took over the piano. Kurtsie took the microphone stand, center stage, and continued to sing.

_Let's get a silver bullet trailer and have a baby boy,  
>I'll safety-pin his clothes all cool and you'll grafitti up his toys<em>.

I could've sworn for a second he looked at me. I was probably dreaming. My mind was taken right off my previous thoughts when I saw what he was doing now. He took his hands from the microphone stand and started sort of... carressing his body. Oh man.

_I've got a perfect body, though sometimes I forget,  
>I've got a perfect body cause my eyelashes catch my sweat,<br>Yes, they do, they do._

He felt down the sides of his torso and all the way down to his hips, with this guilty look on his face. Like he'd done something wrong. It's like the fucker was _trying _to get me hard.

_Ooh, ooh, ooh  
>Ooh, ooh, ooh<br>Ooh, ooh, ooh  
>Ooh, ooh, ooh<em>

_Ooh, ooh, ooh_  
><em>Ooh, ooh, ooh<em>  
><em>Ooh, ooh, ooh<em>  
><em>Ooh, ooh, ooh<em>

As he sang this part, Kurtsie left the microphone stand and just took the microphone. He got off the stage and began walking around the bar, singing to customers and staff around the place.

_Now I've been sitting on this abandoned beach for years  
>Waiting for the salty water to cover up my ears<br>But every time the tide come in to take me home  
>I get scared, and I'm sitting here alone<br>Dreaming of the dolphin song..._

He sang this part to his high-class friends, and he got mixed reactions. Finn and Quinn smiled and cheered him on, Santana and Sugar gave him a smile at least, but Jesse and Rachel just looked unimpressed.

Kurtsie quickened his pace now, running around the bar and singing to random strangers. Old men, young ladies, kids, anyone. I think I even saw him singing to Bandit.

_Ooh, ooh, ooh  
>Ooh, ooh, ooh<br>Ooh, ooh, ooh  
>Ooh, ooh, ooh<em>

_Ooh, ooh, ooh_  
><em>Ooh, ooh, ooh<em>  
><em>Ooh, ooh, ooh<em>  
><em>Ooh, ooh, ooh<em>

As I looked around for Kurtsie, my little skipping princess - wait a sec, did I just say that? - I spotted something else quite interesting.

Sebastian and Topper were headed into the bathrooms together, hand-in-hand. Both looked a little tipsy. I wonder what they had planned.

I smirked. I'm sure it was something _one-hundred-percent hetero._

But that's when I looked away. Because Kurtsie was singing. He was singing to _me_.

_Maybe one day you will understand.  
>That I want nothing from you but to sweetly hold your hand,<em>

He gave me a pouty face and moved closer, still singing.

_Till that day just please don't be so down,  
>Don't make frowns, you silly clown.<em>

He smiled at me, there was a short pause in the song, and then he went on skipping through the bar, singing. Man. He just _did things to me._

_Just come and open up your folding chair next to me,  
>My feet are buried in the sand and there's a breeze,<br>There is a shadow, you can't see my eyes,  
>And the sea is just a wetter version of the skies.<em>

He ran back up to the stage and the microphone stand as the song finished. He was tired from all that running around, but he sang the last two lines, his voice breathy,

_There's a shadow, you can't see my eyes  
>There's a shadow, you can't see my eyes.<em>

* * *

><p>Topper and Sebastian stumbled into the bathrooms, their hands loosely joined together. They had had a drink or two, and they were tipsy, but not full-on drunk.<p>

"I have to... piss," Sebastian mumbled to Topper, and Topper nodded, smirking. The brunette found a stall and walked in clumsily, not even locking the door.

It had been twenty seconds at the most until Sebastian came calling from the stall,

"Topper! I need help in the cubicle!"

Topper laughed quietly, "What could you possibly need help with?"

"Just... c'mere," Sebastian slurred. Topper wasn't as intoxicated as Sebastian was. Sebastian was disorientated. He was giggly and hyper and clumsy.

Topper rolled his eyes and did as he was told, finding Sebastian's cubicle and knocking on the door.

"It's open, idiot," came Sebastian's reply, with an hysterical laugh following.

As he opened the cubicle door, he heard Sebastian repeat "you'll never guess, Topper... you'll never guess what it is. You'll _never _guess, you'll n-never guess, seriously."

Topper opened the door and was a little shocked at what he found.

"Surpriiiiiise!" Sebastian yelled in drunken excitement.

He was sitting on the toilet seat, his pants down at his ankles. His underwear was at his ankles, too, and his legs were spread pretty wide.

"Woah," Topper breathed, and he could feel himself blushing.

"Wwwwelcome to the Sebastian Smythe show!" Sebastian's drunk voice was funny. It was thick and groany and it cracked and broke, he tripped over all his words, "The price for a blowjob is one kiss," he held up one finger, "because this is a _great _cock."

Topper smirked, didn't hesitate, and kissed Sebastian hard on the mouth.

* * *

><p>"You were real good tonight."<p>

Kurtsie was going outside for a smoke and he - again - invited me to come with him.

Now we were just hanging around outside the bar, looking at the stars with cigarettes and making conversation.

"Bet you could say that every night if you could, Blaine Anderson," Kurtsie said with a little laugh, "judgin' by the little charmer you are."

I laughed, "I can't help it if you're stupidly talented, Kurtsie."

"Kurt."

I looked over at him, and he smiled.

"My name's Kurt. My friends call me Kurt."

I knew his name was Kurt. What I didn't know is that he considered me his friend.

"...Friends?" I mumbled, and Kurtsie - um, Kurt - laughed out loud.

"Yeah, dummy," he teased, exhaling a cloud of cigarette smoke, "you think I hang out with you because I _don't _like you? You're my friend."

I frowned, "You're high-class, Kurt. You shouldn't be hangin' around with a Bad Kid like me. I'll take away your sweetness and stuff. I'll make you a depressing bastard like all of us."  
>Kurtsi - Kurt laughed again, and what a lovely laugh that was, "You sound just like my friends, B. They're making you think all those silly thoughts."<p>

I smirked, "Yeah, I guess so. But I don't want you to lose all your friends because of me."

"Don't you want me?" Kurt asked, his tone dropped and his voice became real serious all of a sudden. He cupped my cheek in his hand and looked into my eyes, and it felt funny. But it felt natural.

"Of course I want you. Everyone knows I want you. _You _know I want you. Kurts- Kurt, I would grab you the first chance I got if I could," I told him almost instantaneously after his question, "I'm just afraid you'll lose everything. Because everyone... disapproves."

Kurt laughed another time, and pulled my face closer,

"Then I wonder how bat shit they'll go when they hear about _this._"

He leaned in and crashed our lips together, laughing into the kiss.

I couldn't believe it. Kurtsie Fox - uh, I mean, Kurt Hummel - was kissing me.

And I kissed him right back.


End file.
